


of scartissue and patchwork

by Brook



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Past Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-31
Updated: 2017-03-31
Packaged: 2018-10-13 06:26:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10508145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brook/pseuds/Brook
Summary: Marcus Kane was a scrawny little boy who messed up a lot and learned early on not to attract the wrath of his father. So he grows up striving to be perfect, following the rules to the letter. But then he meets Abby Griffin and she changes the way he feels about everything.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Finally finished another story! It was tough for me to write because I have no personaly experience with this subject and I wanted to do it justice, which I'm still not sure I did. There's obvious mentions of abuse and you should thus proceed carefully, it's nothing too graphic but it is implied.  
> I hope you enjoy it and please let me know what you think!

The first time it happens he’s four years old. His daddy’s always been a violent drunk but Marcus has never been on the receiving end himself. His mother was always there to take the punches for him.

If you were to ask him years later why that day was different he wouldn’t have an answer for you, but at four years old Marcus knew what earned him his beating. He’d brought home his report card and there weren’t any A’s on it.

On the ark you had to be exceptional if you wanted to make it, especially if you were born into the working class. Marcus’ father wanted better for his son and made no attempt to hide his disappointment if his son didn’t live up to his expectations.

So when he brings home his first report card he knows full well what’s about to happen. He tries to hide it at first, to wait to take it out until his father leaves, but even in his drunken state his dad knows he’s hiding something and he takes it from him by force. 

The rage is clear on his father’s face and Marcus cowers back into a corner, making himself as small as possible. He’s clever, even at four years young, and has learned to read his father like a book. 

Right now there’s a storm on his features and thunder coiling in his muscles. 

“Come here boy” His father drawls, but Marcus stays put. “I said come here!” He says again, louder this time, and Marcus has no choice but to do what he says. 

As soon as he’s within arm's reach his father grabs his right bicep so tightly it’s sure to leave a bruise. “What kinda grades do you call this” The man demands, increasing the pressure on his arm, “I raised you to be better than this!”.

“I’m sorry. I’ll do better next time I promise” Marcus sputters out, and his father quirks an eyebrow up. “Oh I’ll make sure you will”. 

The blow is expected. It lands in his stomach and Marcus doubles over with the force of it. He chokes out a breath as tears spring from his eyes. He sobs as his father hits him again and again, keeping him standing with the hand that’s still on his arm. 

His own sobs are accompanied by someone else’s now and he vaguely realises his mother must be standing in the doorway to the bedroom. “Please John, he understands, please just let him go” Vera whispers. 

Marcus doesn’t understand why she’d go against his father. They both know that you don’t question what he does, and this disobedience is gonna get her in trouble. 

Still, it’s enough to draw his father's attention away from him, and Marcus falls to his knees as his arm is let go. “Don’t disappoint me again son, now go to your room and study, I need to talk to your mother”. 

Wasting no time Marcus nods and scrambles to his feet. He looks at the floor while he crosses the room but looks up as he nears his mother, meeting her eye. There are tear tracks on her cheeks, but she smiles at him gently and brushes a hand over the top of his head as he passes her. 

Then the door closes behind him and he sprints to the bed, muffling his cries in his pillow. The walls might be made of metal but there’s a crack under the door that allows him to hear everything that’s going on in the other room. 

His mother’s cries. The sounds of fists hitting flesh. His father’s booming voice. 

Marcus hides under the covers in an attempt to get away from it all, but it doesn’t stop him knowing what’s going on on the other side of the wall. 

So instead he just gets out his schoolwork and starts studying. He can’t save his mother, not yet. He’s tiny and breakable and his father’s ten times stronger, but he can do his best. He vows right then that he’ll never be the reason behind her tears again. 

-

When he’s nine his father lands him in the medical wing for the first time. 

It’s a wonder it’s taken this long. Marcus learned quickly enough that even if he did everything right his father would still beat him. That doesn’t stop him from getting straight A’s though, no reason to give him more incentive. 

Still, it’s never been this bad before. Rationing is at an all time high which means the moonshine that feeds his father’s addiction is hard to come by. It leaves the man angry and volatile, a bad combination. 

No longer can his fits of rage be blamed on the booze alone, and it turns out his beatings are even worse when he’s in full control of his limbs, when his anger isn’t tempered by a coating of liquor. 

So when Marcus has to go home with a torn shirt, and a teachers note explaining how he got into a fight, he knows full well what to expect. 

It’s no use trying to explain that he was helping a girl who was being bullied, all his father will focus on is that his shirt is torn and that they’re going to have to starve to get him a new one. At least his mom isn’t home yet. 

He doesn’t show fear, doesn’t make a sound as the assault starts, knows by now that his tears only eg his father on. Still, when he’s pushed to the ground and lands on his left arm with a crack, he can’t help but cry. 

Apparently his father hears it too, because he stops in his tracks and looks down at the arm in question. “Damnit, now look what you made me do!” He yells, “Go get that checked out, we’ll talk about this when your mother gets home”. 

Marcus doesn’t waste time protesting and just gets up and leaves their quarters, he’s just happy to have a bit of peace before he has to face his father again. 

-

The incident that lands him in medical remains a one time thing. Marcus isn’t sure whether to be happy or not. Maybe if he’d end up there more often people would start to notice, but then, does he really want them to? It’s his fault that he deserves to be punished and no matter how much he hates the man he doesn’t want his father to float for his mistakes. 

But Marcus is thirteen now, and though he’s far from his father’s size he’s slowly been gaining muscles. It’s not enough to overpower his father, but it’s enough to keep the attention on him, and that’s all he needs. 

So he starts fighting back. 

It leads to more fights, more bruises, more pain. But it also gives him a chance to start anticipating the blows, to start taking them in a way that hurts less, creates less lasting damage. 

The punches keep coming but he knows how to receive them now and he pays attention to his father's technique. He starts learning. 

-

At sixteen he starts guard training. Marcus likes what they stand for, the discipline, the following of the law, the punishment that comes with breaking the rules. 

He’s just about to head home from the gym when he’s stopped by his superior, major Evans. “I’m gonna need you to come with me son” he says, and Marcus feels anger flare up at the word ‘son’ but the stomps it down. No use letting your feelings get it the way. 

So he just nods and follows the major into his office. His mother is there and he can immediately tell that something is off. She hugs him but he pulls away quickly and just looks at Evans. 

“I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but your father’s been arrested”. He doesn’t have to add anything else, they all know what’s going to happen now. He’ll get floated. 

Marcus doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even know where he’d begin. He’s numb. It’s finally over and yet,  
A thousand emotions flash through his system. Relieve. Anger. Sadness. Guilt. 

His mother is still by his side and he can feel that she wants his attention, but he can’t bring himself to look at her. He doesn’t blame her, she didn’t chose to marry such a brute, but still, she reminds him too much of his father to bear meeting her eye. 

It takes Marcus a few minutes before he realises they’re waiting for him to respond, so he asks “What happened?”, even though he doesn’t really want to know. 

“He got into an argument with someone over a bottle of moonshine, caught the attention of a guard,” Comes the majors reply, “When he was warned to stand down he started throwing punches”. 

Marcus gives him a curt nod, silently wondering how bad the withdrawal must have been for his father to lose his temper in public like that. Not that it matters now, any crime above the age of majority is a capital crime. 

So he doesn’t protest, he simply takes his mother's hand in his and guides her through the door, muttering a quiet thank you to his superior as they go. 

He brings his mother home and puts her to bed, making sure she has everything she could need, but then he leaves. She’s still crying ceaselessly and yet he can’t find it in himself to comfort her. He needs time alone to himself to proces. 

It’s nearing dinner time so the halls are filled with people heading to the cantina, but he pays them no minds as he makes his way over to the alcove that he found when he was thirteen, the one he always went to after that to get away from his father. Ironic how he’s using it now to get away from his mother. 

Only when he finally sits down in the shadows, looking out the little window, does he let tears stream down his cheeks. His father might have been a bastard, but he’s been there all his life, and Marcus doesn’t know how to go on. 

-

When he’s eighteen he moves out of his mother's quarters and into his own, as he officially becomes a member of the guard. He hasn’t been at ease around her since the day they floated his father and is glad to finally have a place of his own. 

She’d tried to reach him those first few months but Marcus had cut her off completely. She reminded him too much of the past. 

His career was booming. As one of the youngest members of the guard in two decades he made his way up the ranks quickly. His adherence to the law and imperturbable desire to uphold it make him successful in his field and it doesn’t take long for him to make his way to the top. 

Promotion after promotion until he’s finally head of the guard at thirtysix. The youngest they’ve ever had on the Ark, especially considering his background. And Thelonius assures him it has nothing to do with their acquaintance. 

His life seems to be on track. Until it changes a year later. 

-

Abigail griffin joins the council, her new position as chief medical officer guaranteeing her a seat, just like his had. She’s two years younger than him and he’s equally impressed and annoyed that she has beaten him to it. 

Marcus knows of her of course, she’s well liked by other council members, married to Jake griffin who’s senior environmental engineer and deputy resource officer, and friends with Thelonious just like him. She’s a smart, capable woman who isn’t afraid to voice her opinion. 

She also drives him insane. 

Their world views could not be more different. His black and white while hers is made up of thousand shades of grey. His allegiance to the law is constantly challenged by her desire to bend or even break it, and they argue over every little thing. 

His mother dies and everything changes, but he can’t let himself get caught up in the feeling or he’ll fall apart completely. He needs to focus on their people's survival first and foremost. 

But then the exodus ship leaves the Ark dying and people in danger, and he goes above and beyond to find the survivors. 

It isn’t until he finds her alive after thinking she was dead that he realises it’s not just respect and annoyance he feels for her. He won’t let himself dwell on it though, feelings are only a distraction from what needs to be done, and there’s a lot to be done. 

And then they get to the ground, and she’s still challenging him every chance she gets, and breaking the law to send a bunch of kids on a chase through dangerous territory. 

He doesn’t wanna do it, he really does it, but she’s left him no choice and after the shock lashing she still doesn’t seem to grasp how difficult she’s being, which infuriates him even further. 

Marcus doesn’t let it consume him though, because he came in here with a purpose, and he tells her his plan. 

There’s something akin to concern in her voice when she answers him, making it almost possible for him to believe that Abby cares for him too, but he pushes the thought out of his mind and focusses on what comes next. 

-

They grow closer and closer despite their past, or maybe  
of it. There’s still tension between them but it’s laced with other things now. Worry when the other isn’t around, a sense of caring, a need to protect. 

He’s not sure how it happens but he finds himself holding her hand as they walk through the gates of Arkadia after the mountain and somehow it just feels natural. 

The realisation that he loves her comes a few days later when he’s in bed, and it should be shocking but it isn’t. With all that they’ve been through together the thing that’s mostly changed him is her. 

Abby has made him see that there is more than one side to things, has taught him to be open and vulnerable, has made him wanna live up to the man she believes he can be. 

His immediate impulse is to go find her and tell her right this second, but when he reaches for the covers to throw them off he reflects that it’s probably not the best idea. It’s the middle of the night and despite being an insomniac she’s probably finally getting some rest. And besides, if he’s going to confess his love for her he needs to do it properly. 

There’s a party tomorrow, he’ll do it then, by the bonfire. She deserves at least as much as a slightly romantic setting. His last thought before he falls into a peaceful slumber is that maybe he can even pick her some flowers. 

-

It takes him forever to find enough flowers to create a bouquet of flowers that he’s content with so when he finally arrives he’s late and the party’s going on in full swing. 

Moonshine if flowing freely and in abundance and people are laughing and dancing and having fun. raven’s apparently rigged the announcement speakers to play music because a vaguely familiar song resounds through the courtyard.

Marcus wonders where Abby is while he beholds their people. Knowing Abby she could very well still be in medical catching up on paperwork or checking on patients. She works too hard. 

It’s only when he looks closer at the group dancing by the campfire that he realises she’s among them, moving to the beat of the music. It surprises him slightly and it’s not like her, but then again she deserves to let loose, and she can certainly use some down time. 

And their people certainly seem to accept their chancellor letting go of control for once, smiling as if they don’t have a care in the world. 

Only when he moves closer does he notice the empty bottle in her hand, the vacant look on her face, the fact that her movements are less fluid and more uncontrolled. 

She’s drunk. 

It bothers Marcus immensely and he feels himself getting angry. She’s the chancellor for god’s sake, she’s supposed to be sensible and set a good example. 

He recognises half heartedly that he shouldn’t get this worked up over it, but damn it for her being careless and ruining his plans. 

That’s when Abby spots him, and the smile that lights up her face is blinding. For a second it warms his soul but then the anger shoots back up as he realises it’s an intoxicated smile. 

Marcus stops dead in his tracks but now it’s Abby that makes her way over, al though slowly. She stumbles over her own feet and sways from side to side and he should help her, he should, before she falls, but he can’t get himself to do so. 

Eventually she does fall over, but it’s when she’s only a foot or so away from him so she falls straight into his chest, his arms coming up to stand her upright and steady her instinctively. 

The flowers he’d picked so carefully are crushed between his hand and her waist and je drops his arms. Abby looks down at them questioningly, as though not sure if what she’s seeing is actually there. 

“Did you pick flowers?” She asks, meeting his eyes again. He grits his teeth, “I did. I was gonna give them to you but now you’ve ruined them” he says, and he’s not just talking about the flowers. 

Abby seems to realise he’s upset at that, his tone giving him away, but then she’s always been able to read him like an open book, and it appears she can even in her inebriated state. 

She reaches out a hand as though to touch him but hesitates at the last moment. “Marcus, what’s wrong?”. 

This isn’t the right moment to get into this, not while she’d drunk, not while he still feels anger in every fiber of his body. He shakes his head, “Nothing, we’ll talk about it in the morning” he says, “I’m going to go”. 

With this he walks off, hoping it’s enough to end the conversation. It’’s not of course, not with Abby, she’ll never let anything go until she knows what’s going on and if she can help you. Especially when it comes to him. 

Marcus is in advantage because she’s still stumbling, even though their encounter has been slightly sobering. He’s at the entrance of the Ark before she’s even half way across the courtyard and he gets to his chamber door in peace. 

It won’t be enough to stop her from trying to talk to him, she might even open it herself, though that’s not likely, but it’ll give him some time to calm down before they talk and hopefully keep him from saying things he doesn’t want to or doesn’t mean. 

The quarters are small, hardly ten foot long, but he paces the length anyway, trying to get some of his agitation out of his system as he resists the urge to punch a wall. He drops the flowers on the table. 

Not two minutes later there’s a knock on his door, and he wants to ignore it, but he knows it’s no use. If he doesn’t open she’ll stay out there all night and that’s not healthy for either of them. 

Marcus takes a few seconds to gather his composure and then he opens the door, walking away from it immediately and giving her permission to enter by default. 

They’re silent as Abby closes the door and leans against it, conveying him while he stands with his back to her across the room. 

“Marcus, please talk to me,” She says after a few minutes, “Did I do something wrong?”. It’s not yet pleading, but it’s close. 

And he never could refuse her anything so he finally turns toward her, though he’s still looking at the ground. “You’re drunk” He says, and his tone is accusatory. For now his anger is still in check, but it’s bubbling right under the surface. 

“I am.” She agrees, a mere statement of fact. Somehow her shameless admittance makes it that much worse. “I can’t believe you,” Marcus grits out, “You’re the chancellor for god’s sake Abby! You’re supposed to be sensible and show our people a good example and here you are drinking that, that poison”. 

She seems taken aback by that, but only for a moment. Years of arguing with each other over a council table have fine tuned her ability to retort, to not let him get to her. 

“Marcus, I seem to recall you telling me to relax more and enjoy our time on earth, and now that I am you’re am you’re mad at me?”.

His head snaps up. “There’s a difference between enjoying yourself and being irresponsible!” He shouts, but he immediately reigns back his emotions, “You have no idea how much damage alcohol can cause. No idea”. 

It’s the resigned look on his features, the sadness in his tone, that make her realise there’s more behind his rage than just her one night of drinking. 

Abby carefully takes a few steps toward him, trying to make eye contact. “There’s more to this than you’re telling me, please Marcus, help me understand”. 

Hesitance creeps up on him. He’s never had this conversation with anyone. After his father’s death he boxed up all his feelings and memories, never making his hatred for alcohol known. 

But it’s Abby asking. The woman he loves and who taught him how to feel again. She’s still standing here even after the accusations he’s just thrown in her face, and that has to count for something. 

Unable to do this while he’s standing he makes his way over to his cot and sits down on the edge. She follows without prompting and takes a seat next to him, enough distance between them as to not crowd him, but close enough she’ll be able to reach out if needed. 

“My dad, he wasn’t” Marcus starts, shaking his head, “He wasn’t a good man. But he was an even worse drunk”. The sentence hangs between them and he pauses, taking the time to get used to being open, not rushing himself. 

He continues, “He used to beat my mother daily. Every little thing that didn’t suit him would end in an argument, and arguments ended with fists”. 

It’s easier he finds, to talk about it than he would’ve expected, cathartic in some way he hadn’t seen coming. Abby’s hand settles on his thigh and he’s grateful for the contact. 

“At first she was able to keep him away from me, keep the attention on her, but I was just a kid, and I was messy and imperfect so eventually, he started beating me too”. 

Abby feels anger and protectiveness flare up in her but she stays silent, allowing him to finish his story. “I don’t even remember how it started but once it did everything I did wrong got punished. So I decided to make a few mistakes as possible”. 

“And in the end it was his alcoholism that got him floated” Marcus says, a sad smile on his lips, “He got into a fight over a bottle of moonshine and assaulted a guard”. 

A single tear slips down his cheek. “After that I closed myself off from my mother and moved out. She was too much of a reminder of the past. And I never even thanked her for all she did for me”. 

He’s crying in earnest now and Abby wipes some tears from his skin, cupping his jaw in the process and forcing him to face her. “She knew” she insists, “She was your mother and she loved you and she knew Marcus, trust me”. 

It all makes sense to Abby now. The coldness, the way he’s always kept a tight control on his emotions, his complete and uther persistence to stick to the law, to follow the rules. 

If she could go back in time and smack his father over the head she would. She’d make him see what a wonderful boy he was tormenting, make him appreciate the son he had instead of the one he so desperately wanted. 

But she can’t. All she can do right now is be there for Marcus. It seems awfully inadequate, but it’s going to have to be enough. 

Marcus is looking at her with such vulnerability in his gaze that it breaks her heart. It’s as if he’s expecting her to hurt him too. “I’m sorry Marcus,” She says, “I’m sorry that was your childhood, I’m sorry I drank too much. I’m so, so sorry”. 

His eyes meet hers at least. “It’s not your fault” he mumbles sheepishly. “I know, but I’m still sorry” She replies forcefully. 

“I promise I won’t get drunk again. I won’t even drink again if that’s what it takes” She adds. Marcus shakes his head, “You don’t have to do that”. Her second hand joins the other on his face and she cradles his cheeks. “I know I don’t have to, I want to. You’re too important to me Marcus”. 

There’s such determination in her gaze, such adoration that he can’t help himself and kisses her. Tentatively at first, but when it becomes apparent she’s not going to push him away he deepens it. 

Her mouth opens eagerly and he slips his tongue in. She tastes sweet, with a hint of bitterness thrown in from the moonshine she’d been drinking. 

It’s their first kiss but it’s as if they’ve been doing this all their lives. Abby’s hands find their way into his hair, his arms encircle her, one around the shoulders and the other around her back, trying to pull her closer despite the awkward position. 

When they finally break the kiss it’s reluctant and with labored breathing. They don’t back away by much, still holding on to each other, their foreheads touching, and it feels right. 

“I love you” Abby declares, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world to say, and maybe it is. 

Marcus kisses her lips softly and then he hugs her, burying his face into her neck. “I love you too” He murmurs into her hair. It’s not the declaration he wanted, it’s that much better. 

She knows all of him now, knows about his past and still wants to be part of his future. She’ll help him in any way she can and she’ll stick around. And that is enough to make him have hope again.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
